When my sister was born, I was already a teenager. She was less than two when I began my away-from-home academic career. Starting as early as fourteen through my Ph.D., my educational path separated me from my family. Out of eight siblings, I am the only one with any degrees beyond high school; three of them. Leaving home in my teens meant I would never live with my youngest sister like I had with the other siblings. By the time I started visiting my mom with my own children, my sister lived on her own. When my mom became ill and could not keep up the homestead, she went to live with my sister until her death.
It was not long before my mother died that I finally came to live somewhat close—a two hour’s drive—to my extended family. Then it was possible to visit more easily. I saw my sister whenever I went to see my mother, but we never made much effort beyond that. My mother’s death hit her pretty hard and she went into complete silence: never taking calls and never responding to voice messages. This went on for four years and then suddenly, in 2006, she picked up the phone. We began a relationship that was literally 40 years in the making. Too bad I had already made plans to move to California and once again I would be the prodigal sister. Still we made up for lost time and had a relationship like none I have ever had as an adult.
I believe I already mentioned that my second of three grandsons was born on the 22nd of December. We shared photos over Facebook that day and the next laughed about her car getting stuck in the DC blizzard on her way to work. Then she went to bed, coughed once, and breathed her last breath. She was 44 years old. I knew she had an enlarged heart but even a death certificate concluding “natural” causes could not alleviate the tragedy it was for me. I mention this because while I had already made my intentions to make hajj, the cost would have just about wiped out my little savings, which I ended up using to pay for most of her funeral expenses.
Then I learned she had made me the beneficiary on two life insurance policies. Sometimes when you have limited financial means you may dream of inheriting some money—but let me tell you, it is an awful, awful thing to inherit money from the death of some one you love. There is no amount of money that alleviates the pain of losing my sister. So, I immediately gave away more than 35% of it to my other siblings, and to her partner. I paid back the expenses from the funeral and put the rest in savings. Still, it left me no doubt about being able to afford to make hajj.
This week I paid the remaining balance on my hajj account and submitted the requested paperwork. But here’s the thing: according to most jurists, I am not allowed to inherit from my sister. My sister had no children and was never married (although she and her partner were together since they were teenagers). That she designated me as beneficiary was not questioned by her partner or my siblings. She left no will and no instructions. I chose to give some to extended family and I hope she would be happy with that choice. When the insurance company informed me she had changed the policy to my name only within the past few years, it brought back the pain of her loss and some hint at the mutual joy of our few years together as sisters.
Muslims are not supposed to inherit from Jews and Christians (and others, I suppose), nor are they supposed to inherit from us. This is not Qur’anic but derived. Under the circumstances of the historical movement of Islam, with literal wars between extended family sometimes because of this nascent religion, it makes sense that some restrictions might be needed. But our times are radically different. And that’s the thing. It’s like restricting some wealthy person from being Muslim unless they want to be disinherited. That seems a bit odd. Likewise, more families contain both Muslims and non-Muslims in these times (Obama being the most talked-about example). No one in my family is Muslim. Yet over almost four decades they have not rejected me, or prevented me from making my choice or from practicing. They have respected me, and I have respected them. Some are practicing Christians and, as I said, my father was a Methodist minister. It’s all in the family now, and so are our little bit of means. We help each other, visit each other, and celebrate transitions together: births, deaths, marriages, graduations, etc., even if across faiths. It has never been an issue such that I needed to fear disrespect for my faith choice, nor do I disrespect for them in their faith (or faithlessness; some profess no particular belief).
This like interfaith marriages has come to a new level of maturity and exclusivity is counterproductive and redundant. This made me think about other matters of inheritance in Islam. It comes up sometimes as simple mathematical affirmations of male superiority. (The other one is the witness, but I’ll have to get to that another time.) When I present ideas about gender equality in Islam, I’ve been asked, “But doesn’t the Qur’an say a woman inherits half of what a man inherits?” The two relevant passages are quite long so I will not quote them in their entirety. Full details are crucial though:
“…for the male is equal to the share of two females. But if there be females more than two, for them is two thirds of what he has left, and if she is only one, she shall have one half. And as for his parents, for each of them is one sixth of what he has left—if he has a child; but if he has left no child and his parents are his only heirs, then for his mother one third; but if he has brothers and sisters, then for his mother is one-sixth, after the deduction of any bequests he may have made, or debt. As for your parents and your children—you know not which of them is more deserving of benefit from you. And you shall inherit one half of what your wives leave behind… if no child… And if a man or a woman has no heir in the direct line, but has a brother or a sister, then each of these shall inherit one sixth, but if there are more than two… after the deduction of any bequests he may have made, or debt neither of which having been intended to harm the heirs… (Ch.4 v.11-12).
I have not removed any text that helps to show there are subtleties in the divisions across gender, and across extended family. Sometimes there are no distinctions made for gender. Most importantly, despite the patriarchal context more than 14 centuries ago, under no circumstances are women to be disinherited. Juridical intervention has taken away the female shares and passed them over to more distant male relatives, still today. This is a clear violation.
Still it is vexing to make sense of any uneven distribution based on gender. The simplest and most popular interpretation given is that men have a responsibility to provide (nafaqa) and women do not. Therefore, whatever she might inherit belongs only to her; while what he might inherit belongs to the family. For this we surely need another entry, because we have to look at nafaqa today, especially with the modern-day Hajar, the woman who takes care of it all.
But some wonder, if the shares are explicated with such details, can there be any room for other applications? I make these conclusions from the verse: 1) both males and females have a share of inheritance. 2) In addition to direct heirs, extended family is to be considered. 3) Some amount can be bequeathed. 4) We may not know where the benefit (nafa’a) is. 5) No harm is intended. Between the bequest, the nafa’a, and no harm, I think these are like minimal guidelines, with room to—no, more like a mandate to—adjudicate on a case-by-case basis. We cannot predetermine shares at all.
I once calculated if I divided the bequest (legally restricted to one-third) between my three daughters (although some jurists say you cannot bequest to legal heirs), then divided the remainder what would happen. They would have slightly more than the share to my two sons. Then I thought, its not like Allah cannot do the math, so who was I trying to fool? I’ve made my will and each of them are equal beneficiaries. Who knows, my circumstances might change? I might redistribute based on nafa’a. Like in my extended family, my sister, and not my brothers, took care of my mother. On the basis of nafa’a, my sister should have a bigger share than the rest of us.
In the end, I tell people there are a lot of formulas to make sure your daughters are not unfairly disinherited. But if you really want to be sure, make them joint owners now. Don’t wait until you’re gone to leave it to some one else to determine.
